


Poaching and Where It Gets You

by Quarra, xantissa



Series: No Wolves Allowed [15]
Category: Castlevania Lords of Shadow と 宿命の魔鏡 | Castlevania: Lords of Shadow & Mirror of Fate, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploration of sexuality, First Kiss (kind of), Fluff, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Praise Kink, Relationship Negotiation, Unresolved Sexual Tension, learning about each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarra/pseuds/Quarra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: Eskel might have or might not have been poaching in Geralt’s garden in Dracula’s castle when he stumbled on the owner of said castle. For once, Dracula looked a little worse for wear.
Relationships: Gabriel Belmont | Dracula & Eskel (The Witcher), Gabriel Belmont | Dracula/Eskel (The Witcher), Gabriel Belmont | Dracula/Trevor Belmont | Alucard/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Trevor Belmont | Alucard & Eskel (The Witcher)
Series: No Wolves Allowed [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1195675
Comments: 29
Kudos: 171





	Poaching and Where It Gets You

**Author's Note:**

> Notes from Quarra: Eyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, its been a bit but here's the next installment! Expect a few more short fics before we get to the next longer one.
> 
> A huge thanks to [Dira Sudis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis) once again, for saving my life with her beta work. I LOVE YOU.

When Eskel went to leave Geralt’s herb garden, the massive wooden door opened without him even touching it. That happened sometimes in Dracula’s castle. The very stones were alive, in their own way, and sometimes the rooms acted of their own accord. 

Granted, he didn’t have express permission to be here, but Eskel knew that Geralt wouldn’t mind him filling up on potion supplies. Clearly, the castle agreed since it allowed him to be here in the first place. 

It had been only a couple of weeks since they’d returned from Castlevania City. While Geralt was still busy rebuilding his strength and endurance, Eskel was starting to feel antsy about getting back out to hunt. Everything was still so confusing between him and the vampires, though for different reasons for each of them. He wanted to go kill things just to have something simple to deal with.

Up until now, he’d filled his time with helping retrain Geralt and doing a little tentative exploration of the new land around Kaer Morhen. Alucard was around, though things were still awkward between them. Dracula seemed quietly eager to get his hands on Eskel any time he could. It was a bit of a relief that Dracula split his time between Alucard, Geralt, and Eskel. Eskel would have gone crazy if he’d been the sole recipient of Dracula’s interests. 

All the while, Vesemir rolled his eyes and shook his head, Lambert snickered and leered, and Ciri, Letho, and the sex demons all gave him knowing looks. The whole situation drove Eskel to distraction. He wasn’t used to any of it.

It was almost enough to keep his mind off of the persistent chill that plagued him; a side effect of the unfinished bond between him and Alucard. In contrast, Dracula’s mark on his chest seemed warm to the touch.

He didn’t like to dwell on it.

During his explorations, Eskel had very quickly found that the castle would often direct him towards Geralt’s garden if he wandered too deep. Random doorways would enter to now-familiar fields and forests. Every square inch was filled with useful plants, in bewildering variety.

Today, he’d made a special trip just to harvest. He had burned through most of his portable stock when Geralt was injured. 

Getting into the garden wasn’t a problem. Getting _out_ was more of an issue.

Eskel peeked through the doorway and withheld a sigh. The hallway beyond wasn’t one he was familiar with. There wasn’t any point in trying a different door; this is where the castle wanted him to be, so this is where the doors would lead. 

That was part of the risk of going alone to harvest from Geralt’s garden. It held every herb that Eskel had ever even heard of, had deposits of all kinds of useful minerals, and there was even a small clearing with a campfire that was always left burning. Perfect for meditation and creation of potions. 

Getting in and out of the garden left one at the whims of the castle. And while Geralt had spent a fair amount of time charming the castle into taking him directly to where he wanted to go, Eskel just hadn’t spent as much time here. He tried to be polite, but more often than not he was left to wander.

Happily, the castle never sent him to the dangerous areas that Alucard had assured him existed. Mostly, Eskel seemed to wander through whatever beautiful room or hall the castle wanted him to admire. Maybe it got tired of no one pausing to see its elaborate, inhuman creations?

Eskel sighed quietly, but ran a hand down the door frame and said, “Thank you, castle.” 

When he spoke that quietly, his voice was barely a rough growl. Courtesy of how his throat had been torn out years ago. There’d been some improvement after his recent stint in Castlevania City, and his still-blocked and half-made bond with Alucard. Eskel thought he might be the only one who noticed the improvement. The biggest difference was the lack of discomfort when he spoke. Or the _lessening_ of it, anyways.

Sometimes it bothered him that he’d never be able to speak soft words and have them sound anything but menacing. The castle didn’t seem to mind, though, and not a single one of Dracula’s servants even so much as blinked at it. Hard to intimidate demons, he supposed. 

There was the very, very faint sense of some power shifting on the edge of his awareness. Eskel had come to associate it with the castle listening, or sometimes acting. He knew Geralt felt it more, likely because of the bond he had with Dracula and how often they shared power. Eskel had tasted Dracula’s power too, but only a handful of times. Even that little bit seemed to have given him a feel for Dracula’s power around him, though. 

As far as he could tell, his taste of Dracula’s power gave him increased sensitivity to magic in general, and Dracula’s magic in particular. Alucard’s half-bond did the same for Alucard’s magic. Now Eskel was also able to see magic, if he focused. Especially Alucard’s. Eskel wasn’t sure if it was his association with one of the vampires or the accumulated effect of both of them. It probably didn’t matter. The outcome was the same.

Eskel tried not to let it unsettle him. 

He settled his newly-made potions more securely in one of his belt pouches and headed into the hall. This one was a bit more run down than the others he was used to seeing in the castle. The tapestries on the walls were tattered and torn, their pictures faded into nothingness in some places. The stone floor was dirty, and the large statues that lined the hall were cracked and broken. Candles placed on the floor lit the path; they clustered around the feet of the statues like withered little worshipers. 

The hall stretched down a fair ways, twisting and turning at times seemingly with no goal or end in mind. 

It was at one such twist that Eskel ran directly into Dracula.

Eskel nearly walked right into him, so distracted was he by looking around. The fact that Dracula moved so damn quietly didn’t help one bit. 

“Shit!” Eskel cursed quietly, scrambling back a step or two. Heat spread across his cheeks and he smoothed a hand over his tied up hair. “Sorry.”

Then he got a good look at Dracula.

The vampire appeared different than usual. His body was smoking; wisps of sharp smelling smoke wafted off of him. His armored coat was sooty and scuffed, and his pale chest was reddened and scratched up. 

On his left side, just above the wide armored belt, was a large, jagged wound. Pieces of skin and flesh were left hanging over the gaping hole. A bit of white bone showed between the heavily bleeding flesh. There were various wounds scattered over the rest of his body. They were all down Dracula’s legs and arms. There was even a jagged cut over his cheek. He stank of sulfur and ash, and heat radiated off of him.

“Gods, are you alright?” Eskel asked quietly, mildly horrified by all the damage.

“What are you doing here?” Dracula asked. A little frown tugged at his lips.

Dracula stopped and pressed his hand against his side. Blood spilled through his fingers and dripped onto the floor.

“I was in Geralt’s garden and got redirected on my way out.” Eskel wanted to reach out, to help Dracula somehow, but he didn’t know how. All he could do was stand, his hands outstretched but not actually touching.

“Hm,” Dracula harrumphed, wincing at his wounds, and turned towards a bend in the corridor that Eskel hadn’t seen before. 

He disappeared around the corner. Eskel blinked, and then followed, both shocked at the obvious damage and worried. He wasn’t aware that Dracula could even be hurt like this, much less remain wounded for a longer period of time.

As soon as he turned the bend, he saw Dracula approach a strange stature. 

It was made from white marble and depicted a middle aged man. A saint maybe. It had that look of holy sculpture about it. The man was held from behind by a stone demon, his shoulders gripped tightly by the clawed arms of the creature. In his chest, there was a large hole. The vacant space was obviously carved there, not created by decay or disrepair. That cavity was filled with red light and when Eskel’s eyes got used to the strange glow of it, he realized that he was looking at a heart. A human, beating, _living_ heart.

He watched, half mesmerised, half horrified as Dracula reached for the living heart and pulled it out of the statue. The red light winked out; whatever magic held the heart alive was gone. Dracula tilted his head back, raised the heart high above him, and squeezed the blood right out of it into his mouth. Eskel watched as the thick, red, blood splashed into his mouth and over his chin.

From his position, Eskel could see how most of Dracula’s small cuts healed up right away, not even leaving a scar. However, the deeper injuries, including the huge gash in his side, were still there. The edges of it had shrunk a bit; the deepest part of the gash had closed up enough that Eskel couldn’t see the bone anymore. Even though the bleeding had lessened, the wound was still very much there.

“What happened?” Eskel asked, still worried as hell. As a witcher, he was more than familiar with the process of shrugging off crippling wounds. What bothered him was the fact that this was _Dracula_ who was so hurt. What could have done so much damage and why wasn’t Dracula healing?

“When I took over Hell, I didn’t know there were so many worlds connected to it. I sometimes like to… explore the connections. Some of the lands are more vicious than others.” For all his supposed invincibility, Dracula sounded, well, tired. 

Eskel looked him up and down again, noting how filthy he still was. He’d never seen Dracula look so disheveled. 

“Why didn’t you do the,” Eskel wiggled his fingers as he struggled to think of the correct word, “...mist thing?”

Dracula quietly grunted in dissatisfaction, pressing his palm to his side again.

“Cursed poison,” he said shortly. “It keeps me locked in my physical body.” That must have been a nasty surprise for someone who liked to go incorporeal as often as Dracula. “They thought it would stop me,” he snarled, a smirk pulling at his still bloodied lips. “They were _wrong_.”

“Do you need help?” Eskel asked, suddenly anxious about what other damage the coat might be hiding. “Are those wounds dangerous?”

It was hard to gauge what would be a problem for Dracula and what was negligible. Eskel was still concerned. He didn’t like to see Dracula hurting. He also didn’t try to examine that thought too closely.

“It won’t kill me, if that is what you are worried about,” Dracula answered turning towards Eskel. “I just need to wait it out.”

Eskel frowned at him. There wasn’t anything he could do to help Dracula recover.

Well. Maybe there was something.

“Do you…” Eskel floundered. “Do you need more blood?” It wasn’t his first choice, but if Dracula needed it, he wouldn’t mind offering his neck.

“Yes,” Dracula said. Then he looked at Eskel with dark eyes. “Not yours, though.”

He turned back to a set of side doors that were still closed, and pushed them open. Behind them Eskel could see a small room filled with candles and two more statues with living hearts. 

Eskel trailed after him as Dracula repeated the feeding process over again.

It didn’t look any less gruesome when Dracula harvested the next two statues, drinking the hearts up until they were nothing but shrivelled bits of flesh. With every feeding, more of the scrapes disappeared from Dracula’s body. Not only there, either. Even his coat looked better as some of the soot and dirt simply disappeared. The biggest wound, the one on Dracula’s side, looked much better after the last feeding. The flesh no longer yawned quite so widely. It finally stopped bleeding. It still wasn’t _healed_ , though. Eskel couldn't help but worry.

In the past, Dracula had never shown any hesitance or disinterest in drinking from Eskel. So hearing him flat out refuse Eskel’s implied offer was strange. He couldn’t help but feel a tiny sting of rejection, though it was mostly overshadowed by more anxiety. Was Dracula afraid that he would drink too much?

“Why not my blood?” Eskel finally asked. “I heal very quickly, especially with Swallow. We both know you wouldn’t do more damage than I can take.”

Dracula let the last shriveled up heart drop and looked up at Eskel, looking surprised.

“ _You_ are not food,” Dracula said as if it was obvious. 

The answer made Eskel feel warm in the heart and in the face. He didn’t quite know what to do with that.

Dracula frowned and looked at his side, with the blood and filth caked there. “I’m a mess.”

Eskel had to nod in agreement. Dracula _was_ a mess. 

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched Dracula’s side, right under the wound there. It looked painful, even now that it was mostly healed. 

Dracula’s words swirled around in his head, stirring up a complicated mix of emotions. He didn’t think of Eskel as just a meal. The time they shared had always meant a great deal to Eskel. They were peace and comfort, a closeness he never expected to have. A blush burned on his face as he realized those moments meant more to Dracula as well.

He suddenly realized that Dracula was watching him with a focused intensity. The burning on his cheeks got a little hotter, and Eskel dropped his hand, curling his now dirty fingers into a fist.

“Bath, maybe?” Eskel asked quietly. “You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”

“You offering?” Dracula asked voice lowering to a rough growl.

Eskel looked up to him in confusion. For a moment the words didn’t make sense. Then he realized Dracula was asking if _Eskel_ would bathe him. 

He swallowed hard. 

The idea had appeal, for more than one reason. Dracula made it no secret he would like to fuck Eskel, but he also left it to Eskel to make the decision when and if it ever happened. At this point, Eskel had to admit to himself that he had interest. He was still extremely dubious about acting on it, though, and not just because he wasn’t sure about the depth of his own physical attraction to men. The closeness that he, Dracula, and Alucard shared filled an aching need within him. He didn’t want sex to change that, to cheapen it.

This might be a good opportunity, though. To care for Dracula in a way that the vampire seemed ridiculously resistant to accepting. Maybe also for Eskel, too, to touch more than he normally ever would.

“Um… yeah,” he said finally, a coil of tension settling low in his belly. He couldn’t quite believe he was going to do this.

Dracula raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised at Eskel’s easy agreement.

Eskel ducked his head and blushed hard. Fuck, his face was going to light on fire; the sensation prickled across the scarred side of his face, making him almost wince. 

A million things bubbled just on the tip of his tongue. In the end he swallowed it all down and just nodded. He cleared his throat. “You’ll need to get us there. The castle likes to give me the scenic route.”

Dracula lifted his hand and pointed behind Eskel. When he turned, he saw that where there was a wall before, now was a heavily carved door.

Convenient.

When he pushed it open, he got hit in the face with a veritable wall of fragrant steam.

The baths were as amazing as ever. The ones in Kaer Morhen were paltry in comparison. The huge, central bathing pool was fed by multiple waterfalls that lapped gently at the stone edges. There were wooden trays full of lotions and soaps floating over the water, and flowers decorating the edges. Freshly prepared towels were folded and waiting at the edges of the pool and there were even snacks set out on deep silver trays along with the towels. He blinked at the roasted chicken legs and fresh buns, the fruits and cold meats cut into small pieces and arranged around the piles of steaming bread.

Eskel huffed in amusement. “Thank you,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking to Dracula, the castle, or both.

He walked over to one of the side tables and started unbuckling his armor. A tiny little thread of panic looped around in his mind. He was doing this. He was really doing this.

“Can you unsummon your armor?” Eskel wasn’t watching Dracula, mostly out of shyness, so he wasn’t sure if Dracula was already disrobed. He’d helped Dracula take off some of his clothes before, but Eskel still wasn’t sure he was ready to help the vampire shimmy out of his leather pants.

“No,” Dracula said. “I’m temporarily in need of help.”

Because of course.

Eskel quickly stripped down to just his pants. He’d get them in a minute, but for now he’d feel a heck of a lot better with at least a little modesty preserved.

He turned to see Dracula waiting a few feet behind him. Before he could think too hard about it, Eskel walked over and pressed his hands to Dracula’s shoulders, just under his coat, and slipped it off.

The coat fell down with a clang, all those metal reinforcements hitting the stone floor hard enough that the sound made Eskel flinch.

Eskel put his hands on Dracula’s armored belt next. But he paused before unlatching it.

Shit. What the hell was he even doing? Dracula was going to turn this into a sex thing. Dracula _always_ turned everything into a sex thing. He pushed and prodded and rode right up to the line of what Eskel was able to deal with, and sometimes even stuck a claw over.

Eskel couldn’t help but think of the terrifyingly intimate way that Dracula had cleaned him in Castlevania City. How he touched Eskel everywhere, possessive and hungry.

Now that Eskel had actually agreed to give a relationship a try, there was no telling how far Dracula would try to push him.

Granted, Dracula was injured, but the blood that he’d consumed had put him more in the range of injuries that Eskel was used to seeing on a witcher; bruises and mostly healed lacerations. There was no doubt in Eskel’s mind that Dracula can and would completely ignore such injuries for the sake of getting off.

Eskel had seen Geralt do the same thing. Hell, even Eskel was tempted a time or two. Something about lingering adrenaline, maybe. He seldom had a partner to give it a try with. 

His thoughts spiraled down into a whole host of things that he _was not ready for_.

With his head bowed, he leaned in to press his forehead to Dracula’s naked shoulder, and took a breath. His heart was already racing, and his stomach fluttered and churned.

Dracula’s hand rested on Eskel’s head, fingers trailing light touches through his hair. Each point of contact was delightfully warm against Eskel’s chilled skin. He couldn’t tell if that was because he was feeling a bit chilled or if it was just the fact that Dracula was always extra hot to the touch.

“I… I don’t know how much of this I can do,” Eskel admitted softly. 

“You have seen me naked before,” Dracula said slowly, patiently.

This was true. Dracula seemed to have only two modes of dress, armored for war or completely nude. 

“Not like this,” Eskel protested, not looking up.

“Like what?”

“Seeing is different than touching. And I… I might want to touch. A little. But I don’t know if this will work for me.” He waited a moment, and let Dracula’s hand in his hair soothe him. That sensation was one of his favorites, and he couldn’t help but let a little bit of the tension trickle away. 

“Hmmm, I’m going to have fun either way,” Dracula said, tangibile smirk in his voice.

Eskel sighed. Dracula was shameless. “I’m just warning you. I don’t know how much I’ll do here. Maybe not much at all. Don’t…” He gritted his teeth, struggling for a moment. 

“Expect something?” Dracula finished for him. His hand trailed down from Eskel’s head to his neck, gripping tightly. It sent a whole host of shivers down Eskel’s back.

“Yes.”

“Watching you struggle is also kind of fun,” Dracula said, his hand going back to stroking over Eskel’s hair. “I can get my relief out of Alucard or Geralt.”

Eskel growled. “I was going to say, don’t be an asshole about this, but I can see that's a lost cause.” He leaned a little harder into Dracula’s shoulder. “For once can you not make this harder for me?”

Dracula laughed, surprisingly loud and free.

“If owning something I can take by force was what I was interested in, I would have a host of succubi serving me right now.” His nails elongated into claws and dragged ever so gently over the skin of Eskel’s head. 

Another shudder shook him, and then Eskel relaxed into it. He let the sensation of Dracula’s hand in his hair soothe him again, and mulled those words over. 

“So you’ll let me do as I wish here? Even if that means I do mostly nothing?”

“Don’t I always?” Dracula shot back mildly.

“You like to press,” Eskel answered dryly. “You make it hard to keep my mind straight.”

“Because I like it when you yield,” Dracula murmured, letting his hand slide back down Eskel’s neck and spine, until it was resting at the small of his back. “I like it quite a lot.”

A shiver raced up Eskel’s body, and he swallowed hard. “You have so much control over me already,” Eskel whispered. “I worry about losing all of it.”

“Losing what?” Dracula was frowning now, Eskel could hear it. “I don’t mind waiting if I have to. I have all the time I need.”

Eskel wrapped an arm around Dracula’s torso and held him tight as a wave of fear trembled through him. What would happen if he let Dracula do as he pleased? Would Eskel be just another pet? He already knew that their relationship was far different than the one Dracula shared with Alucard and Geralt. 

He could be hurt so very, very badly, and deals with Dracula weren’t temporary. It wasn’t physical pain he feared, though Dracula could easily swat him like a fly. But for the last several months, almost a year, Eskel had found comfort. Safety and closeness. A startling spot of emotional support that he’d never expected to experience. The fact Dracula was the source of it was a shocking turn of events. 

He couldn’t stand the thought of sex fucking that up, destroying that fragile balance and, well, _happiness_ , that this unexpected connection gave him. More than that, he realized that Dracula could utterly wreck that comfort and happiness, destroy him with a few words and maybe never even realize it. And Eskel would have no escape.

“I want to have you.” Dracula said. “I want to mark you. Inside and out.” His hand pressed Eskel closer, forcing them flush against each other. “I want to have you in all the ways I can dream of.” 

“That’s not reassuring at all,” Eskel complained.

“It’s not supposed to be,” Dracula said unexpectedly. “It’s only the hard choices that matter.”

Eskel nodded. That was nothing but the bare truth, and he always appreciated Dracula’s honesty. 

“So,” Eskel murmured, “you are torturing me for my own good.”

“I’m a generous person like that,” Dracula drawled, all smug and pleased.

Eskel snorted and shook his head. “Of course.” He ran his hand up Dracula’s spine, for once savoring the sensation of the muscles under his palm. “Will you let me take care of you? For right now?”

“Yes,” Dracula purred. “Do your worst.”

“No.” Eskel looked up at him, meeting his eyes again.

Drac raised his eyebrows at the words, lips twitching.

“Oh?”

“No, I won’t do my worst, because this isn’t a competition.” Eskel ran his hand down Dracula’s uninjured side, feeling his ribs move with every breath. “I’m not trying to win anything here, or impress you. I just want to see if this…” he half shrugged, “feels right, I suppose.” Slowly, he eased his hand over the front of Dracula’s chest, settling right over his heart. Eskel loved how it always beat so steadily, like a solid drum under his hand. “That alright?”

“I’m interested to see where you take this,” Dracula said, voice dropping to a rumble that only stroked the coil of tension in his belly more.

Truth be told, Eskel was kind of curious where things would go himself. There was always the chance that he’d get halfway through this whole bathing thing and find himself still mostly uninterested. Then he’d really know that it was just the influence of Dracula’s breath and bite that got him all horny. From the fluttery feeling in his stomach, though, he was starting to consider that possibility unlikely. 

Eskel took a breath, and slid his hands to the front of Dracula’s belt, searching for the latch that would open it. After a moment of feeling around, he found it, and dropped the belt to the floor.

“Come take a seat so I can get off your greaves,” Eskel said, tugging him by the waist towards a chair.

When Dracula turned to look at the chair, Eskel sucked in a breath at the sight of his back. The coat had hidden the damage there. Now that Dracula’s back was laid bare, Eskel could see the deep, black and blue bruising that stretched from the top of Dracula’s shoulders to his waist. There must have been a very large wound there before the feeding. The bruising and the blood that had soaked into the back of his pants showed clearly that he’d been injured worse than Eskel had first assumed.

Before Dracula could sit down, Eskel stepped up quickly behind him and grabbed hold of his hips, bringing him to a stop.

Dracula turned his head slightly towards Eskel, the gesture questioning. 

It struck Eskel, though, that he followed Eskel’s instruction first and questioned later.

“We should loosen your pants now, before you sit. Any squirming in your chair is gonna play hell on your back,” Eskel said quietly.

Careful as he could, he reached around to untie the lacings of Dracula’s leather pants. First, he plucked at the knot there, pulling it apart in short order. Then he pulled at the lacings, making more room at the waist. He ran his fingers around the top of the pants, easing them down just a bit, just enough that he could just see the swell of Dracula’s ass. That should be enough room to help him pull them off later. He _hoped_.

“Thanks.” Eskel let his nose briefly touch the back of Dracula’s shoulder, breathing the word out onto his skin. Then he took a step back, letting Dracula go. 

He didn’t understand the look Dracula gave him then, his red eyes hooded but soft. The vampire regarded him for a long second before turning back and taking a seat in the chair. If he hurt, he didn’t let that be seen on his face.

Eskel knelt next to him, and began working on the plate greaves. He’d already done this job a couple times by now, so he knew what he was looking for. In moments, he had the heavy metal leg armor off, and another minute after that he got Dracula’s boots off, too.

He had to pause to smile. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve stripped down a wounded man.”

It wasn’t even _close_ to the first time. Eskel had been on the Path for almost a century at this point, and he’d had a hell of a lot of opportunities to deal with wounded people. 

With Dracula sitting here, it was easy to think of Geralt, though, and some of the more ridiculous situations that he’d gotten them both involved in. 

Maybe Eskel was also using it as a distraction from what he was doing, too. If he was busy thinking of Geralt falling on his face, he wasn’t thinking about how he was about to take off _Dracula’s pants_.

“Oh?” Dracula sounded curious. “Who was it?”

The smirk on Eskel’s face turned into a full blow grin. “Geralt. There was this woman, a noble, and he just knew that she had a thing for tight leather pants. So he got all dressed up and dragged me around to party after party, looking for her. Each place we stopped at we had to get a drink or three.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes and laughed softly to himself. “Geralt did not find the lady in question, but he did find her father. Turns out the man was the captain of the city watch. Who knew?” 

He carefully set aside Dracula’s boots and armor, still smiling at the memory of it. “Rather than stick around and fight, we decided an expeditious retreat was in order. Through several gardens, over five rooftops, down a fire escape the hard way, and through at least one window. And we were both so falling down drunk by that time that I think we would have taken less damage from just fighting all of the city guard. Gods, he was so smashed that he was still weaving around the next day.” 

Eskel plucked at the ankle of Dracula’s pants. “His pants were significantly more difficult to peel off than I’m sure these will be. Especially considering all the glass shards. Lucky him, the leather took care of the thorns. We still had to get them off before he could heal, just to get out all the debris. I ended up cutting the damn things off of him.”

“Glass? What did the father do?”

Eskel laughed. “It was less what the man did, and more what we fell into. And through. Geralt was all set to meet the lady in a private room, one of her friends had let us know that she was there. Geralt went up to wait for her and got ambushed by the father and the watch instead. They’d blocked the door, so Geralt went through the window.” 

“Somehow,” Dracula murmured, “this doesn’t surprise me at all. Geralt seems like the kind that finds trouble even when he isn’t looking.” Dracula paused. “And most of the time, he _is_ looking.”

“Gods, truer words were never spoken.” Eskel rolled his eyes and snickered some more. 

“You can just cut those off, too.” Dracula said, leaning back in the chair and letting his legs splay out. “Once the curse is out of my system I will make myself new ones.”

“That would make things easier,” Eskel muttered to himself. Then he looked up to give Dracula a narrowed eyed stare. “Are you as fond of sharp things as Geralt is?”

“Hmm.” Dracula raised his hand, the black claws shining gently in the soft light. “I am full of sharp things by nature.”

_Indeed, you are_ , Eskel thought, eyeing the delicate points of each claw. If he had any fucking idea about how to summon his own claws, he could show them off too. 

Sadly, even with constant meditation and practice, he still wasn’t quite able to summon them at will. Eskel felt like he was making _some_ progress, though.

Not that it would help right this moment.

He shook his head and got up to fetch one of his own knives. At first he grabbed one of his short, sharp daggers, but then he paused. After a moment of reflection, he grabbed his field dressing knife, one with a special hook on the end designed to carefully catch the skin of an animal and cut through it without damaging the meat underneath. 

Pants weren’t exactly what it was designed for, but it would work just as well. He held it up to show Dracula as he approached. It got him another raised brow, but Dracula didn’t move otherwise. His legs were still sprawled in front of him, powerful thighs stretching the well worn leather even in his relaxed state.

Eskel took a moment to look over the material and where it stretched. For that instant, he wasn’t thinking about the man in front of him, or the fact that Eskel was undressing him. There was only the practical problem of skinning those leather pants off of Dracula without further injuring him. 

Happily, witchers were pretty good at skinning things. He flipped the knife absently as he strategized, not noticing Dracula’s appreciative gaze until a couple of minutes later.

_Guess I should get on with it._

A light heat crossed his cheeks, and Eskel knelt next to him. Carefully and efficiently, he cut from the top down. First, down one leg, then the other, leaving the leather pants in pieces that soon slithered to the floor. His blush grew a little hotter as he realized he was looking at a naked, smug Dracula. 

Damn, but Eskel was never this bashful around hookers or other witchers. Or, hell, people in general. 

It was just… Dracula’s opinion _mattered_.

Eskel shoved that thought aside. He could deal with it later.

He set the knife on the table next to them, held his hand out to Dracula. “Want a hand getting into the pool?”

“I would never refuse your offering,” Dracula murmured, reaching for Eskel’s arm and clasping it forearm to forearm. His hand was hot as it wrapped around Eskel’s flesh, gripping tightly.

Eskel pulled him up with easy strength, until they were standing chest to chest. He laid his free hand on Dracula’s lower back. Gently, though. He didn’t want to touch too harshly, mindful of that awful bruising there, but it was enough that he could guide Dracula towards the bath. 

Clearly, Dracula was able to walk under his own power. After all, they’d gotten to the baths alright. But Dracula said he’d let himself get taken care of, and Eskel was willing to take that seriously. 

In all his memory of Dracula, limited as it was, Eskel had only ever seen him being the proactive one, the one that got shit done, and took care of other people. He’d never seen him even close to vulnerable, much less letting other people take care of him.

Maybe, perhaps, Eskel could count that night they’d spent in Geralt’s bed a few weeks ago, the day that Geralt was almost killed and Alucard had whisked him away to Castlevania City to be treated. Eskel had cared for Dracula then, too, but he’d let Dracula take the lead. This was different.

Eskel knew how it felt to always be on, to always be ready to act, being the savior, the one that figured things out and took care of people. He knew how exhausting it felt. How lonely.

He guided Dracula down the stairs into the water even though it got his own pants a bit wet. Then he gently steered Dracula to the shelf seating along the side of the pool and quickly stepped out to finish stripping himself. 

Soon enough he was wading back into the water, drifting over to where Dracula sat. 

The reality of what was about to happen hit him again. Eskel froze in place, one hand tight in a fist, and he bit his lip. 

“Getting cold feet?” Dracula prodded, rolling his head to the side and watching Eskel from under his lowered lids. His eyes kept sliding towards Eskel’s chest, where Dracula’s mark was exposed for all the world to see.

The teasing barb brought a huff of laughter out of Eskel. He grew up with a horde of other boys; he knew how that game was played. Rather than playing back, he just answered honestly. “Nervous, I guess.”

He drifted over to the bench and grabbed a cloth off of the ledge there. 

“Do you have a scent you like?” he asked, looking at the array of bottles there.

“The pink, flowery one.” Dracula pointed at a bottle containing a pink liquid. When Eskel uncorked it, it indeed smelled very fragrant, like flowers he wasn’t familiar with.

After pouring a little on his cloth, Eskel lathered it up, and then slid down to sit next to Dracula on the bench. 

“Face first,” he said, eyeing the blood trailing down Dracula’s jaw. Leftovers from the hearts. It was a good thing that blood didn’t bother him in the least, to the point where he actually barely noticed it. Despite the statues’ human form, Eskel strongly doubted that it actually came from a person. It seemed more likely that it was something the castle produced because its master required it.

Or maybe the castle just stored the lifeblood of any human that had died here. He’d certainly found skeletons aplenty in his limited wandering of the place, and he knew from his delve into the history of Castlevania City that Dracula’s castle had come under attack by hundreds of thousands of humans. Who had all failed at their task of killing Dracula.

Eskel put one hand on Dracula’s jaw and tilted it towards him, carefully wiping down the skin with the towel as he moved. It didn’t take long, but after he was done he found himself staring at Dracula’s mouth. He ran a thumb over that plush lower lip and thought back to how many times Dracula had bitten him over the last half year. Not frequently, but memorable each time. Especially when they were in Castlevania City. 

When Dracula moved, it was so sudden it made Eskel squeak in surprise. The vampire opened his mouth and caught Eskel's thumb into his mouth with lightning speed, one fang cutting the skin there. The cut was minimal, not even a bite really. It was the suddenness of the move that had made Eskel jump back more than anything else. 

Eskel’s heart pounded in his chest. He pulled his hand up and watched as the tiny scrape healed up almost instantly. When he looked up to Dracula, who was still watching him with those burning red eyes, Eskel swallowed.

“Why?”

“Hmm, wanted a taste,” Dracula said, sounding pleased with himself.

Again, it made Eskel wonder just what was it that Dracula could taste in the blood he took. Was it something else when he took it from Eskel compared to the blood from the statues’ hearts? Because those, Eskel was sure, were not given willingly to the cause.

“Hair next,” Eskel said roughly, pulling his hands back and looking away. There was a moment of silence as he got the soaps ready, then he paused. Eskel was fairly confident in his ability to make someone go boneless under his hands; he had enough practice after all. But that did pose some logistical problems. “Do you want to rest your forehead on my shoulder, or lean your back onto my chest?”

Either way would come with its own set of awkwardness, but at the very least it would let Dracula relax his neck while the washing happened. 

Dracula’s eyes slid to the dark, triangular seal on Eskel’s chest, a little bit of light filling them again. “I’m going to lean back against you,” he decided.

As soon as his words were out of his mouth Eskel saw the pool change. The lip of the edge pulled back and up, the sitting ledge changing shape until behind Dracula there was now enough space for Eskel to settle in comfortably.

By now he should have been used to how the castle changed around Dracula to suit his whims, but it was still a little unnerving to watch in action. He spared a moment to wonder if Orlaith was watching them right at that moment, or if this sort of adjustment was just automatic. 

Eskel moved in behind where Dracula sat. Which was about when he realized the folly of his plan, because in order to really make this work, Dracula would have to scoot up tightly against him. It felt like his face was on fire with how much he was blushing, but he swallowed down the reaction and put a hand on Dracula’s hip. Gently he pulled Dracula back until they were pressed tightly together, his chest to Dracula’s back and his cock against Dracula’s ass. Somehow, it wasn’t reassuring at all that he wasn’t hard. It only made him all the more aware of the intimacy of the position.

He took a breath. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To have a chance to feel and explore without any pressure. Eskel let his hand stay on Dracula’s hip for a minute, brushing one finger in little circles over the sharp edge of the hipbone. 

“Do you like this?” Dracula asked. “Being the one in control?”

Eskel paused to think about it. He’d had a few very frank, very stressful conversations with Geralt on this very subject recently, and it was something he’d put a lot of thought into. While he thought, he kept up the easy motion of his finger on Dracula’s hip.

“It’s safer that way. And it’s what I’m used to,” he said finally. “I like taking care of my partner. I like pleasing them. But…” His heart sped up and his mouth went dry. “...I think you broke me,” he whispered. “In the dungeon. You found what I’d always wanted, what I didn’t even know I needed, and I had to take it. I _had_ to. I don’t think I know how to do anything in between anymore. Either I’m in control, or I have none.”

He shivered hard at the thought. It was overwhelming for a moment, the enormity of that admission. Eskel ducked his head down to rest it against Dracula’s shoulder, hiding. His hand spasmed and clenched down hard on Dracula’s hip. 

Dracula’s hand drifted through the water until it found Eskel’s knee and latched on there, holding on firmly, giving Eskel another point of contact.

“I see nothing wrong with that,” Dracula rumbled. “I enjoy you yielding to me.” There was a terrible kind of satisfaction in his voice when he said the last word. Dracula was possessive. Eskel knew that, but he didn’t always remember just how deep that possessiveness ran.

“It’s terrifying,” Eskel whispered. His heart thundered in his ears.

“You are a witcher,” Dracula said almost gently, his hand inching just a little bit higher from the knee it was holding. “You don’t let things like fear stop you for long.”

“I don’t think I have a choice here.”

Dracula’s thumb was making slow little back and forth moves against the inside of his thigh, distracting and pulling his attention to that burning spot of contact. He thought, giddily, that if he wasn’t so uncomfortable and stressed, that this soft, little movement would have been a hell of a lot more arousing than he originally expected.

He closed his eyes and forced his body back into order, slowing his heart and relaxing his muscles. 

“I want to watch you take me, yes,” Dracula confirmed easily. “I want to mark you inside and out. My mark on your skin, my come inside you.” Dracula tilted his head back, let it rest on Eskel’s shoulder, and turned so that he could rub his face against the side of Eskel’s neck. Like a pleased cat marking up his territory. His carefully trimmed facial hair scratched gently against the skin there, wet and heated from the steam, sending little pinpricks of sensation all through Eskel. “If that’s what you are asking.”

“So you’ve said,” Eskel said. He took a slow, deep breath. “I think I’m trying to figure out if that’s something I want before we try anything.” He pressed his lips down onto Dracula’s neck, and said softly, “Because I think if we actually do have sex, I won’t know how to say no.”

A little shudder went though Dracula, Eskel could feel it with how close they were pressed to each other. The vampire hummed, a pleased little sound.

“You like that?” Eskel asked. “You like the control?” He had assumed that Dracula did, but it was worth it to actually ask. 

“I do.” Then Dracula rumbled out a half-laugh. “There’s a reason one of my preferred forms is a dragon, you know.”

“Because you like burning things?”

“Because I want to hoard the things I like. I enjoy having them hidden away safely, just for me to guard.”

Eskel could see it, too. The way Dracula pulled everyone together, the way he liked to keep his eyes and his hands on them. Eskel thought about the mark on his chest. It would have been child’s play for Dracula to claim him completely. To utterly enslave him. But Dracula had waited, patiently, for Eskel to decide what he wanted to do. 

Mostly patiently.

“Given that, I’m fairly impressed you let any of us leave.” Eskel stared off into the distance for a moment and pursed his lips. “Especially Geralt, what with all the ridiculous things he gets involved in.”

“I like you coming back of your own will,” Dracula said, still rubbing his face slowly against Eskel’s neck. He could feel the way it burned by now, the skin there aggravated by Dracula’s short goatee. “Gives me a thrill of victory every time.”

Eskel snorted in amusement. Even now, with this intimate subject between them, Dracula had found a way to put him at ease. To settle him. He had to smile at it.

He let the hand on Dracula’s hip spread out, moving up to cover Dracula’s firm stomach. How many times had Dracula put his own hand in the same spot on Eskel’s stomach, claws out, feeling the life under his talons but choosing not to take it. They weren’t lovers, not yet, maybe not ever, but they were as close as lovers could be, he thought. 

“How do you always know when I need you?” he asked, mostly rhetorically. “You always know just how to calm me down.”

“We have a connection now,” Dracula rumbled and the mark on Eskel’s chest lit up with sensation; the tingling magic made the hair on the nape of Eskel’s neck stand on end. 

“You call to me,” Dracula said and the magic went away, leaving the mark as nothing but dead lines on his skin.

Guilt washed through him. “Shit, I didn’t mean to. I know you said not to bother you with trivial matters, and I thought I wasn’t.”

Now he felt like kind of a fuckup. His own needy issues dragging Dracula away from whatever other matters he was attending.

“The mark does what I designed it to do,” Dracula said matter of factly. “If I didn’t want to respond to you, I wouldn’t.” He stopped rubbing his face against Eskel, the skin there feeling red and sensitive, and turned to catch Eskel’s eyes. “I’m ruthless enough, don’t you think?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Eskel said, somewhat puzzled. There was a wealth of conflicting evidence that came to mind. On one hand, Dracula treated Alucard and Geralt like precious treasures. Especially Alucard. One look from those black and golden eyes was enough to make Dracula do some truly astonishing things. On the other hand, anyone not in Dracula’s fond regard mattered less than dirt to him. Their lives, their _anything_ , were at best a means to an end, to be spent at will. 

Dracula went quiet.

“It’s strange,” he murmured finally, no longer looking at Eskel, “to have the dangerous parts of me questioned.”

“Maybe it’s because danger holds little meaning for us witchers.” Eskel smiled ruefully. “Physical danger, at least. We grow up knowing we’ll reach a violent end, and that over the course of our lives we will undoubtedly be the cause of a great deal of death. It makes it hard to gauge sometimes.”

“I like this about you,” Dracula said, relaxing against Eskel again. He’d tensed up so slowly that Eskel had missed it until now, when he felt Dracula’s large body go boneless against him. “That ruthless practicality.” Then he rumbled deep in his chest. “I find it very arousing.”

And suddenly the burning blush was back on Eskel’s face. He’d pleased many a woman over the years, but seldom was he complimented in such a way. Sure, women had chased him because he was dangerous, or hopped gleefully into bed because he was exotic, but few admired the cold brutality that had been forged into him and all of his brothers. 

“You promised to wash me,” Dracula reminded. “What are you going to start with?” Then he hummed. “Geralt likes to pay attention to my chest. Is it pleasing to you too?”

Eskel was very well aware just how much Geralt liked Dracula’s chest. He’d heard about it in great enough detail. 

But now he had a chance to explore it himself. 

He ran his hand across lines of Dracula’s abs, and down just a little, pausing to feel the flat muscle right above his groin. Then he trailed upwards, cupping one pec in his hand and rubbing his thumb over Dracula’s nipple. It tightened up under his attention, and he circled that hard, little bud for a minute longer. Feeling that reaction sent a little thrill through him, and he tilted down his head to breathe in Dracula’s scent right under his jaw. The ever present scent of burning embers, blood, and skin washed through him, relaxing him almost against his will. That scent had come to mean safety and comfort to him.

“You are very well built,” he said eventually. “I don’t know that I’m as enamored as Alucard and Geralt are with your chest.” He dragged his lips down Dracula’s neck and onto his shoulder. Embarrassment flooded him again. “I like your scent, and your shoulders. I think you have very nice hands, though I’m not as excited by your claws as Geralt is.” 

“Yes?” Dracula shifted his other hand, catching onto Eskel’s other knee, and now he had both hands on Eskel. The grip was high enough to get Eskel to suck in a breath, but not yet high enough that he felt like he had to protest. It felt like Dracula was teasing him, not directly aiming to feel him up. Dracula did like to push Eskel’s limits. He even admitted it out loud.

“You cut a very striking figure.” 

Reluctantly, Eskel took his hand away from its exploration and reached for a bottle of shampoo.

“I love the sound of your voice,” Dracula admitted dreamily. “You sound like you are a second away from trying to rip my throat out.”

The bottle dropped in the water as Eskel’s hand spasmed. No one had ever said anything like that. But it made sense, though. Dracula wouldn’t react as normal people would. 

“I frighten children,” Eskel said quietly, then shook his head. “Not that it matters. But. My voice isn’t something people say they like.” He shook his head again, banishing the melancholy mood, and reached for the shampoo bottle floating in the water. “It is possible that I have thought about ripping your throat out a time or two.” 

He leaned down to playfully snarl. He added a light press of teeth on skin, and gave out a tiny growl. It wasn’t a true bite. Not even really a kiss. Just a soft touch.

The burning ember scent that Eskel loved so much filled the air, and Dracula’s body tensed up just a little bit.

“I know,” Dracula sounded horribly pleased at Eskel’s admission, and his voice was dark and rough.

Eskel paused, suddenly wondering if his teasing threat was more like foreplay for the vampire.

“You are not easily deterred, are you?” He sighed and poured the contents of the amazing-smelling concoction over Dracula’s hair.

“I’m a very focused kind of man,” Dracula said mildly, closing his eyes at the first touch of Eskel’s fingers.

A laugh bubbled out of Eskel at that massive understatement, and he got to work on Dracula’s hair and scalp. 

This was one of the things he was good at. The fine art of relaxation. He’d picked it up over the years and perfected it on a number of very willing partners. Given his looks, it always pleased him to have some kind of edge in the bedroom.

He turned the simple hair washing into an experience, dragging his fingers along, working the tension out with controlled pressure. He pulled and kneaded and rubbed away even the hint of stress in Dracula’s head, jaw, and neck. 

He felt, more than heard, the pleased rumble that took place in Dracula’s chest.

“Good?” he asked quietly.

“Very good,” Dracula murmured. “Did you do this to my Son already?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Not the hair washing, but the massage, yes. It was when Geralt was in the hospital. Alucard looked really stressed. I’d hoped it would help. I think it did.”

Dracula laughed.

“I wouldn't be surprised if he offered sexual favors for you to do more of this. It’s a weakness of his.” Dracula’s voice was a low, sensual rumble and his eyes were closed.

And wasn’t that a thought. “I’d offer it to him without that anyways, but… noted.”

“I bet he would let you do anything you liked after such a massage.” The dark rumble of Dracula’s voice grew deeper. “Would be all soft and welcoming.”

An image of Alucard, loose and needy under him raced through Eskel’s mind. He remembered those little moans of pleasure and relief that had worked their way out of Alucard, how soft his body was and pliant for direction.

Then he thought of the night that Alucard had breathed power into him and tied their souls together. An echo of that shivering need to touch and be touched raced through him.

Eskel swallowed hard, and his hands slowed as he mulled it over. “I do like making him feel good,” he said roughly, his throat dry. 

“He enjoys being taken,” Dracula purred. “You could take care of him so well, couldn’t you?”

He could. Maybe. Eskel loved seeing Alucard soft in his arms, loved the closeness they shared. More than once, Alucard had sought him out in the night, eager for warmth and touch, and bringing with him comfort along with it. What might it be like to be the cause of that sleepy cuddliness that overtook Alucard after sex?

Eskel shook his head, but it was a half-hearted, distracted gesture. “He likes it rough. He likes pain, and that’s not… really something I like. Giving or receiving.”

“I don’t think you truly understand what he likes,” Dracula murmured. “It’s the forced submission that interests him most; pain is just an aspect he can take or leave depending on situation.”

Now the idea of holding Alucard down was rampaging through Eskel’s head. Not a painful grip, not rough. But just something to keep him in place. Hold him tight while Eskel made him feel wonderful.

Eskel blinked it away and gave Dracula a side-eyed glare. 

“Are you using Alucard to seduce me?” he asked, surprised. His hands paused their work on Dracula’s scalp.

“Waste not, want not,” the vampire murmured. “And it’s clearly working.” He didn’t move but now that he’d said it, Eskel became aware of the fact that he was slowly… reacting. Both to the closeness and the images Dracula so skillfully sneaked into the conversation.

It was tempting to complain that maybe Alucard should be involved in any potential conversations about what may or may not happen to him, but Eskel knew by now that Alucard would probably be on board. In matters of sex, he tended to follow Dracula’s ideas pretty closely. At least that was the impression Eskel got from all the unwanted information Geralt and Alucard shared. For all that Alucard was the patient and calm one in that relationship, he was also much kinkier than Geralt. He and Dracula were remarkably well suited to each other.

Rather than answering verbally, Eskel slid his hands down to Dracula’s shoulders and dug into the muscle there. 

That got him a reaction. The moment his thumbs dug under the muscles, searching for the often overexerted connections, Dracula shivered and let out a stifled sound. 

“Good?” Eskel asked, shifting to get more leverage and doing it again, following the place where the biggest muscle groups connected to the neck. He wouldn't go any lower with his massage, too worried about the heavy bruising. He decided to just stay there and work out what tension he could. 

“Yes,” Dracula answered after a delay. “This feels really good.”

Pleased, Eskel spent a few minutes massaging the tight muscles of Dracula's neck. When he felt even more tension leave the man reclining against him, he remembered his actual purpose there. 

He reached for a fresh washcloth stacked on the edge of the pool and lathered it up liberally. 

He put the soapy cloth against Dracula's neck and dragged it slowly down, to the hard stretch of Dracula's chest. He rubbed careful circles there, as much washing the skin as familiarizing himself with the shape of the man he was touching. 

For the moment he avoided the wound at Dracula’s side. He’d get to cleaning that later. It would be better to let it soak a while, then take care of it right before they got out. Besides, Dracula was so relaxed against him, it was hard to consider causing pain. Even the little sting that came from cleaning a deep cut.

Curiosity got the better of him as he cleaned, and Eskel found himself caressing the lines of Dracula's muscles. Eskel didn’t think he’d ever been with quite so athletic a partner. Dracula’s hard body wasn’t unappealing, though. Neither was Alucard’s, though the two of them were built very differently. 

Just to feel the difference, Eskel dragged his fingers up to Dracula’s pecs, cupping them like he would a woman’s breasts. He found he liked how little they gave, how different they felt. Very much not like woman's breasts at all. The motion of Dracula’s breath pressed against his palms, warm and filled with life. He thumbed over Dracula’s nipples, so much smaller than the perky buds of a woman. He liked how they reacted, though, and how he could feel Dracula shift under him. 

That little movement made him slide his hands away. “Sorry,” he said, abashed. 

“Don't apologize,” Dracula said quietly. “I like what you are doing.”

“I don’t mean to tease. It’s just… different.”

“Your scent, your taste have been a tease for months. I’ve gotten used to it.” Dracula sighed then stretched out, shifting against him. “Continue.”

Hesitantly, Eskel put his hands back on Dracula’s chest, savoring the warmth there. Dracula was always so filled with life, so hot. Never anything like Eskel had imagined a vampire to be. 

Then he slid his hands lower, feeling the way Dracula's belly rose and fell with every breath. He could feel how the muscles tensed up on every intake and relaxed on the exhale. This part of Dracula’s body, usually hidden by his wide, armored belt, seemed so very vulnerable to Eskel. Nothing to protect the delicate organs, especially now that Dracula was trapped in his physical body. Liver, kidneys, spleen… all so easy to reach, just a paltry layer of skin and muscle guarding them. 

He spread his hands over the flat expanse of belly he was touching, feeling suddenly, viciously protective. Dracula was vulnerable right now. Probably easy to attack since he no longer was used to fighting without his abilities, or even trying to keep his physical body safe. Eskel remembered what Geralt said about his match with Dracula. The vampire let himself be hit sometimes, just so that he could get close enough to his target. 

Dracula lifted his hand from the knee he had been holding up until now and placed it over Eskel's over his belly. 

“I can be hurt in this form, but I can't die from the wounds,” he said gently. “It's fine. I'm fine.”

“We both know that death isn’t even close to the worst that can happen.”

“I have been through the worst,“ Dracula said soothingly. “There's no fear left in me about my own fate.” He was quiet for a moment as he stroked Eskel’s hand gently. “Only those of others, it seems.“

“All the more reason for us to worry for you,” Eskel muttered stubbornly. “Just because you can take anything and survive doesn’t mean you have to.”

Dracula was silent for a long time after that.

“It’s always been like that for me, long before I even became what I am today.” He let go of Eskel’s hand and shifted it back to his knee, wrapping it around Eskel’s kneecap.

Eskel took the rebuff for what it was, and let the subject drop. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Dracula was uncomfortable accepting care and affection from others. Forcing the issue would likely only set him on edge. Besides, as blunt and gruff as Eskel knew himself to be, he was a big believer in patience. He could sneak care and comfort in, and likely do it in such a way that Dracula would be too busy enjoying it to grumble.

With that in mind, Eskel let his hands drift down to Dracula’s hips. “I like this. You in my arms, safe and whole.” 

He grabbed his washcloth again -- he’d lost it sometime during his exploration of Dracula’s chest -- and ran it down Dracula’s thigh. The man had powerful legs, that was for sure. Eskel admired the firmness there as he ran the cloth down to the knee and up to the inner thigh.

Dracula purred, the sound so quiet it vibrated through his chest more than anything else.

That was a very nice sound, Eskel decided. Nice enough that he tried the movement again, thoroughly rubbing the cloth all over Dracula’s thigh, up and down.

Before he could get too distracted, he switched the cloth to his other hand to get Dracula’s other side. While he cleaned, he kept his mouth close to Dracula’s neck, breathing in his scent. It must have tickled, the way his exhales ghosted over the wet skin there, but Dracula didn’t complain.

More than that, he tilted his head, giving Eskel more space to work with. It made Eskel giddy, this trust, this easy cooperation Dracula was offering.

He licked his lips. They felt too dry all of a sudden. Then he shifted his hand to the inside of Dracula’s thigh on the next pass. Without pause, he slowly dragged the cloth over Dracula’s groin, feeling the heat there even through the fabric. Carefully, he shifted it down, washing Dracula’s soft cock and balls. Before he could get very far, he felt Dracula twitch and grow under his hand. It was enough to make him freeze, and his breath caught in his throat.

Even soft, Dracula was a fair handful. The more he grew, the more Eskel burned with embarrassment and just a touch of shock. Eskel himself wasn’t lacking in the size department, but Dracula’s cock was impressively thick.

More than that, it was the shocking intimacy of this. Somehow knowing Dracula was hard or had his cock pressed against him when Dracula fed from him was absolutely different from this. Feeling the cock in his hand twitch and rapidly fill out, feeling the soft flesh plump up and then firm under his touch. Frozen, he kept his fingers loosely closed around the hardening cock, until it pressed firmly against his palm.

Eskel let his other hand dig into Dracula’s hip, holding him still. A tiny little voice in the back of Eskel’s head pointed out that he couldn’t hold Dracula if he tried, but most of him was focused on the body under his hands. He sat still for a long moment, scrambling to get his brain in working order. He wasn’t even sure how he felt about it, if he liked it or not. 

He swallowed hard, and eased the cloth up, washing over the base of that thick cock and up Dracula’s stomach. Then down again, rubbing softly over its full length. He could feel Dracula tighten up, his whole body a long line of tension. There were tiny pin pricks against his knees, claws suddenly showing where there were blunt human nails before. He waited, but Dracula said nothing, only rolling his head back to rest it on Eskel’s shoulder.

A shuddering breath escaped him and he had to shake his head. 

“Given what I felt from Alucard when he--” Eskel swallowed hard. “When he breathed power into me, he did not seem like a small man. I don’t know how Geralt can even walk anymore.” His voice was so rough that it was nearly painful, and he had to swallow again against the dryness in his throat.

Dracula chuckled.

“Different. Longer, a little leaner. Very proportional.” Dracula’s voice was lower than before, the growl deepening and sliding thickly against Eskel’s ears.

“I’m starting to have serious concerns about my health,” Eskel said, only half joking. He curled his hand around that thick cock, really getting a feel for just how big around it was. The head was even thicker, wide and full, and Eskel could tell its shape even with the cloth in the way. “I’ve never---” He forced himself to take a breath. “Done this. I don’t even know how you’d get this thing inside me.” 

Eskel could feel that his eyes were very wide, but for the life of him he couldn’t focus on anything but what was under his hands.

Dracula chuckled again.

“Considering how physically enhanced you witchers are, you will manage much easier than you think.”

“My enhancements let me shrug off an arrow to the gut, too, but that doesn’t make it pleasant.” Eskel knew the worry was leaking into his voice, but fuck. He felt he had good reason to worry.

Dracula exhaled, the sound just a little bit shuddery.

“I would stretch you first,” Dracula promised. “Fingers first, teaching your body to relax and accept intrusion. Teaching it how good it can feel. Orgasms usually help with that.”

Eskel closed his eyes and rested his face into Dracula’s neck. Some of the worry did ease out of him, knowing that Dracula wouldn’t just shove that monster into him. He’d fucked women in the ass before, so he was familiar with the particulars of the act, but he’d never been a woman’s first on that front. 

“Stretching is good,” Eskel said eventually, still painfully aware of how he was wrapped all around Dracula’s body. How he cradled Dracula’s cock in his hand. “Pain basically kills the mood for me. I hurt enough all the time, I don’t need it in bed, too.”

“You won’t be hurting,” Dracula promised. “I have ways.”

“You are going to get me all high on your power, aren’t you?” Eskel sighed.

“Probably,” Dracula agreed, his voice still that low growl. “Until you get some experience.” He scratched gently at Eskel’s knee. “You witchers seem to learn physical skills extremely fast.”

“We are very good at that,” Eskel said with a shudder. He pulled his hand away from Dracula’s groin and let the washcloth drop onto the bench next to them. Then he slid his palm over the flat of Dracula’s lower abdomen, his fingertips just barely touching the root of Dracula’s cock. Then he stopped.

“May I?” Eskel asked softly, breathing the question right into Dracula’s ear.

Dracula exhaled loudly, hands clenching on Eskel’s knees. “Yes.”

Before he moved, Eskel let them both sit there for a minute. Just enough to try and calm himself down a little, let some of the nerves settle. As soon as his heartbeat was steady, he smoothed his hand down Dracula’s cock.

The skin was so soft. Eskel marveled at it. Now he could really feel the impressive girth of it. Loosening his hold, he trailed his fingertips over the veins there, following one up to the very base and down to the full ballsack below. Then he moved further, just brushing over Dracula’s hole, gently feeling around the tight pucker there. After a moment, he drew his hand back up, all the way to the tip of the cock, thumbing up around the foreskin.

He dragged his other hand over to rest on Dracula’s inner thigh, relishing the vulnerable softness there, too. The muscle under his hand tensed and twitched, but Dracula didn’t move. Mostly. His cock did. It twitched, jerking up as if trying to encourage Eskel’s touch. 

This shouldn't feel so strange, so exciting. He knew how a cock felt in his hand, he had his own and gods knew he touched it enough. But this didn’t feel like touching himself at all. Not even the size of it. It was just how… alive it felt, how _other_. Hot and smooth, he could feel the small veins pulsing just under the skin. This was someone else’s cock, and more importantly, it was _Dracula_ , who had wormed his way into Eskel’s heart without Eskel really being aware of it. 

Eskel’s cheeks were burning, he could feel it. His lips were dry and he kept having to lick them. His whole attention was focused on what he was doing.

Spurred on by further curiosity, he slipped the hand on Dracula’s thigh under that leg and lifted, settling Dracula’s body on his lap. He’d wanted better access, more space to explore without needing to strain to reach. But as he moved them, Eskel realized he was mostly hard, too. What they were doing was appealing enough that his body had reacted, though he couldn’t say which part had caused the reaction. Was it his own cautious exploration? Or the quiet, filthy things Dracula had whispered into his ear? Was it the idea of holding Alucard down until he was crying with pleasure, or the thought of Dracula breathing power into him, making him come over and over until his body gave in and accepted him?

His cock pressed into Dracula, sliding just under his ass, and that felt so damn good that Eskel nearly cried out. But getting off wasn’t what this was about, though he was mildly impressed that his body was even on board with that. He held them both still, and forced himself back into calmness.

“Very respectable,” Dracula murmured in that low growl, sounding unbearably pleased. He shifted just right to press against Eskel’s cock, sending a sharp wave of pleasure up Eskel’s spine.

The compliment made Eskel blush even harder. A breathy, slightly hysterical laugh escaped him and he shook his head. 

“You’ve seen me naked before,” Eskel reminded him.

“As you said, touching is different,” Dracula replied with dark satisfaction.

The way Dracula was resting on him, it meant that Eskel’s nose and mouth were buried right into that well shaped shoulder. He rubbed his lips back and forth across the skin there and said, “This is really different. But… not bad, I think.”

“It’s rather better than not bad for me, I can tell you that,” Dracula murmured. There was an edge of laughter in his voice.

Eskel let his hand drift down the length of Dracula’s cock again. “It’s not like touching myself,” he said softly, almost musingly. Carefully he explored the head with his thumb, noting how it pulsed under his touch. “You’re so soft and firm.”

“Can’t be that...” Dracula exhaled forcefully. “...different. You have one of those too.”

Eskel hummed and felt around the edge of the head, right where the foreskin met the glans. Then he ran his index finger along the underside seam, up all the way to the little slit at the end. He could feel the hard shudder that wracked Dracula at the touch. “There are similarities, I’ll grant. But it’s another feeling entirely to touch someone else.”

“Yes.” Dracula sounded breathy now. Eskel knew, from all the stories he heard, that Dracula tended to be very quiet in bed. Geralt especially was proud of himself whenever he managed to wrangle any louder sound out of him. The way Dracula sounded now, breathy and a little strained, made Eskel feel strangely powerful.

As his index finger smoothed a little circle right over the tip of Dracula’s cock, Eskel could feel a tiny bit of thick slickness coat his finger. Precome. He’d gotten Dracula dripping just from his fumbling exploration. The thought of it made warmth curl up inside of him, and he had to tense up to keep his body still. That was sexier than he expected it to be. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, though. Eskel always had liked pleasing his partners.

He rubbed the slickness between his fingers until the water of the bath washed it away. Curiosity struck him again, and he reached down to smear another bit of slickness onto his fingers. This time he brought his hand out of the water so he could watch the thick wetness on his fingers as he worked it around. 

The scent wasn’t new. He’d been buried under Dracula, Alucard, and Geralt in a post-sex cuddle pile often enough that he was well familiar now with the scent of Dracula’s release. He had to wonder if the taste was any different. 

Using his tongue on a woman’s delicate sex was something he enjoyed a great deal. He loved working every little moan and gasp out of them, loved making them come over and over. And while it wasn’t something he’d done a lot, he had licked his own come right out of a woman before. So he did have some frame of reference about what a man’s release would taste like. 

He was damn curious if this would be the same. Before he even thought it through, Eskel brought his fingers up over Dracula’s shoulder and strained a little to get in reach of his mouth. 

Just as he was sticking out his tongue to taste, he noticed Dracula was staring at him. Dracula’s eyes were burning, the red in them bright as hot coals, and his mouth was parted, showing off the tips of his fangs. Eskel froze, eyes wide.

“Shit,” he breathed out, dropping his hand and hiding his face in Dracula’s shoulder. He burned with mortification. The hell was he thinking? Not only was he making a fool out of himself, what must it look like to Dracula? Like the worst possible kind of teasing, probably. It was mean, cruel of him when Eskel knew damn well he didn’t want to take things further right then. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have---”

“Taste it,” Dracula said roughly.

Eskel looked at him, eyes wide and mouth dry.

Dracula’s hands curled under Eskel’s knees, holding on tightly to the bone and muscle. He arched, not much, but enough to press his upper body more firmly against Eskel and show off the hard planes of his chest to Eskel.

“Do it.” The words were rough, more a growled out order than anything else and Eskel felt something in his chest turn and coil tightly at the sound of them.

He almost said no. He _almost_ got up and ran. His heart beat so loudly that it was very nearly all that he could hear. A whirlwind of emotions whipped through him as he stared helplessly into Dracula’s burning eyes. 

Slowly, he raised his hand up to his mouth again. This time he paused to close his eyes; every part of him burned with embarrassment. Dracula was _watching_ him. He could feel it. It wasn’t about the taste any more, or him exploring the differences between flavor, or even just tentatively trying out a new experience. Now he felt like he was being told to perform, and he damned himself for wanting to do a good job. Eskel couldn’t deal with the thought of Dracula finding him lacking. Or worse, rejecting him.

Eyes still closed, he brought his fingers to his lips and licked. The bath water had washed away most of the flavor, but there was still some left. Some faint bit of bitterness. He licked again and his skin burned, the arousal in him flagging just a bit. 

After that he looked up to Dracula’s eyes, begging without words, but for what he couldn’t even name. He felt so vulnerable, flayed open under Dracula’s red eyes.

Eskel wasn’t quite sure what happened next. One moment he was licking his fingers, Dracula’s back pressed against his chest and the next water was splashing out and Dracula was just a blur of movement. There was a hand around his neck, claws pressing ever so gently against his blushing skin, and lips pressed to his. Dracula was facing him, standing in the water and leaning over to kiss Eskel with hot, wet lips while his other hand was clenched tightly around Eskel’s left knee.

Eskel gasped into the movement. It was too fast for even his witcher reflexes to keep up with. He was shocked by the sudden contact and the slick slide of lips against his. 

Dracula licked once, then twice, asking for entry. His mouth was so soft and so very hot, and his claws moved gently against Eskel’s neck.

Every muscle in Eskel’s body screamed with tension. He sat frozen. Dracula was holding him still, but gently, and it took him a minute to realize that. 

He could still move if he needed to. 

Dracula wasn’t forcing him, wasn’t taking what Eskel hadn’t offered yet. And for all the closeness, Dracula wasn’t actually pressing his body against his. The single points of contact was the place where Eskel’s leg pressed against Dracula’s hip, his hand keeping that leg still and the hand around his neck. Everything else was separated by a thin layer of water. He could still feel Dracula’s presence just in front of him but it wasn’t overwhelming.

That was enough to lower his anxiety just a tiny bit, enough that he let his lips fall open and tilted his chin up just a little. Allowing a kiss, though only hesitantly. 

Dracula made a low sound, very deep in his chest and instead of delving inside like Eskel half expected him, he caught Eskel’s lower lip in his teeth and sucked until it tingled, then soothed it with his tongue. Now that Eskel had given in, Dracula seemed happy to play around. He still kept Eskel in place, the hands at his knee and neck unmovable, but he seemed hell bent on exploring. 

They hadn’t done this before. The kissing. There were the almost-kisses of sharing power, but those were just press of lips against his. Not this slow, careful exploration. This teasing. It was like Dracula was learning the shape of his new territory.

Little by little, Eskel relaxed into it. There was the small screaming worry in the back of his mind about where it would lead, but most of his attention was focused on the soft feel of lips against his. His eyes drifted closed and he lifted his hand hesitantly, placing it just under Dracula’s ribs. The contact felt shockingly intimate, even more than the time he had the man’s cock in his hand. _That_ was still exploration. _This_... this was _permission_. Dracula made that growling sound again and this time Eskel could feel the vibration through his hand.

“Calm down,” Dracula purred between kisses, his voice low and thick like molasses. “I won’t push for more.” He licked at Eskel’s lips again, this thumb stroking just under the hinge of Eskel’s jaw.

A sharp stab of relief went through him, but it was a guilty feeling. “I think I fucked up here,” Eskel said quietly. “I didn’t mean to… to tease you.”

Dracula chuckled.

“You didn’t.” He delivered a series of small, barely stinging bites to Eskel’s lower lip. It was a little swollen by now, very sensitive. Eskel licked it helplessly. “You did well,” Dracula reassured him, the hand on Eskel’s knee clenching and releasing in slow, pulsing motions.

Pleasure curled up inside of Eskel at the praise, and squirmed a little under the attention. His eyes fell almost closed again and he tilted his jaw up, showing his neck. 

“Do you want to drink from me? I got you all,” he swallowed, “interested, and now I’m leaving you frustrated. Makes me feel like I didn’t do a good job taking care of you. I’m not, I don’t want sex. Right now. But you could drink and feel better.” 

“I want to drink from you,” Dracula said slowly, “but I won’t.” He pulled back, his fingers ghosting over Eskel’s lips. “If I bite you now, we will end up fucking,” he said matter of factly. 

Something about the confidence of that delivery made Eskel shudder. He closed his eyes for a moment and took two very deep breaths. “Did I at least make you feel better?”

“The wait was infinitely more pleasant than I expected,” Dracula said, stepping back. His body started to slowly flake off into little motes of darkness. He was watching Eskel with burning red eyes, and a half smile on his face. There was no sign on the wound on his side anymore, his body whole once more. “My pretty witcher.”

That pet name sent a shiver up Eskel’s spine and for the life of him he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

Eskel watched until the last bit of Dracula’s energy disappeared, and he was alone in the bath. Then he ran his hands over his face and shuddered. _Hard_. 

How long he sat there just trying to breathe through the reaction, the comedown from all that tension, he wasn’t sure. 

Eventually he got himself up out of the water and dragged his tired body over to the table with his gear on it. He didn’t even bother with most of it; he just pulled on his pants, now miraculously dry, and dragged his shirt on. The rest he bundled up under one arm, swords haphazardly slung over one shoulder, and he headed for a door.

“Please, pretty please, for fuck's sake _please_ take me to my bedroom, castle,” he said wearily. Eskel felt more than worn out. His body was still buzzing with a bizarre mix of good-bad feelings, and his brain felt stuffed full of everything that had happened. He needed to go level out. Preferably somewhere warm and comfortable, and right now he couldn’t deal with the idea of seeking out Dracula’s bed. So his own would have to do.

By some twist of luck, the door actually opened to the right room. It wasn’t his bedroom in Kaer Morhen, but it was the one that the castle had assigned to him as ‘his’ when he was here staying with Dracula, Alucard, and Geralt. Eskel had no idea where that actually was in comparison to anywhere else, except that it was close to Dracula’s bedroom. 

He stumbled through and dropped his stuff on the table along the wall. His swords he kept with him, though. They made him feel better, and he was sane enough to realize that it wasn’t a rational feeling. He didn’t care. Right now, he’d take what he could get. 

“Thanks, castle,” he mumbled. 

He stared at the plush bed with its charcoal colored sheets and silver blankets and pillows. After a moment of ploddingly slow deliberation, he stripped off his clothes and fell into bed, wrapped himself up in as deep a pile of blankets as he could, and cuddled up to his swords. The bed still smelled faintly of the last time the four of them had gotten together to cuddle, and he appreciated that fact immensely. 

Whatever his brain was doing, whatever situation or plan of action for the future that he needed to work on, Eskel decided it could wait. He focused on his breathing instead, and attempted to bring his flustered body back in line. 

Dracula had proved to him, once and for all, that he could be attracted to men. Clearly not often, maybe not easily, but definitely yes. 

It wasn’t even his attraction to a male body that was making him feel so off kilter. It was Dracula’s confidence, his power, his tendency to just take charge and roll with it. It came so easy to him that Eskel was afraid he could get lost in that no matter what he actually needed or wanted. 

It was easy, that was the problem. 

Dracula made him feel safe and taken care of and it shocked Eskel just how far he was willing to go to keep that. The fact he felt both bitter and relieved at Dracula refusing to bite him was just a proof of that. He needed time and space to put things in order in his own mind. 

Dracula’s stance was clear. The man didn't hide or obscure his desires. Now that Eskel knew he could, theoretically at least, match those, he needed to figure out if he even wanted to.

He’d need to think it over. As soon as morning hit, Eskel resolved to head out on his Path. He’d been here helping Geralt build up his stamina long enough. The hunt would settle him, and give him a chance to decide how to proceed. 

But for now he’d cuddle up here, warm and safe, wrapped around his swords, and with the faint scent of Alucard, Geralt, and Dracula in his nose. 

\---


End file.
